


Turn around (bright eyes)

by SnowHime



Category: Stranger Things - Fandom
Genre: Aftermath of Possession, Aftermath of Torture, Billy Hargrove Lives, He is also a big Mess, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, M/M, Post-Season/Series 03, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Scars, Slutty Steve Harrington, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 15:57:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19726921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnowHime/pseuds/SnowHime
Summary: “You don't have to do this.” Robin says, her hand is gentle on his shoulder. Steve doesn't want gentleness; he feels nauseous just from how sad her face looks.“Yea, duh.” He shrugs carelessly, sends her a dopey smile, hoping it will be enough. “The thing is, Rob, I want to? Aren't we here to have fun, and stuff?”“Yeah,” she says, “We are here to have fun.” The implications of her non-said words make his skin crawl and face burn with shame.He feels so fucked up.He really needs to get fucked.





	Turn around (bright eyes)

**Author's Note:**

> “He was charismatic, magnetic, electric and everybody knew it.
> 
> When he walked in every woman's head turned, everyone stood up to talk to him. He was like this hybrid, this mix of a man who couldn't contain himself. I always got the sense that he became torn between being a good person and missing out on all of the opportunities that life could offer a man as magnificent as him. 
> 
> And in that way, I understood him and I loved him. I loved him, I loved him, I loved him.
> 
> And I still love him. I love him.”
> 
> ― Jacqueline Kennedy

“I don't know. I don't know if I can do this. I mean, she is just so pretty. Really, really pretty.” Robin sighs, her fingers with dark nails tapping the bottle of beer anxiously, and Steve looks up at her.

They dolled up for today, together, spending a lot of time on choosing outfits and doing each other's hair. Robin got dark eyeliner and black necklaces; she wears a plaid shirt, tied up on her waist and tight jeans.

Steve in shorts and crop top Jersey what Robin cropped for him because apparently, she didn't trust him enough to do it himself.

Like, okay, maybe he had head in the clouds sometimes and dropped things when he was nervous, but he was able to cut a stupid t-shirt, yeah?

“Oh, come on, you can do it,” Steve assures, showing free salty peanuts into his mouth. “You are smart and cool and funny, and, like. I am really pretty, too? But even I was _charmed_.” He says, making moony eyes at her and fluttering his eyelashes like a swooning girl.

Robin snorts, rolling her eyes and bumping their shoulders together. Steve smiles when she doesn't seem so tense anymore. 

“You're pretty gay for a bi guy, you know that, Harrington?”

“Shut up.” He whines, throwing a peanut in her. “Why instead of bullying me, you won't go and put your sharp tongue in good use with that girl?”

Robin stares at him, almost spitting her beer out.

Oh, shit. 

That. That sounded kinda dirty.

“I. Uh, I'm, I didn't mean it, like, in this way-”

“Relax, buffon.” Robin snorts, cheeks a bit pink. She isn't used to the whole dating thing yet, but Steve sure she will get here soon. Nothing will be more humiliating than his own flirt attempts at Scoops, at least, so he hopes it will boost her confidence. “I know. You're right, I guess.” 

Steve makes _of-course-I'm-right_ face, because, yeah. Of course he is right.

They joke around a bit, Steve tells her about Dustin's new school year. Then the music starts to play some dude's stupid sad fucking love song and it makes Steve feel empty and achy and restless, no matter how many drinks and peanuts he will put into himself.

Steve blinks, bites his bottom lip until it hurts. Looks through the bar, searches for someone in the drunk dancing crowd of sweaty bodies, someone who he will never be able to find again.

His gaze stops on the man in a black leather jacket, slightly older and with more darker hair than Steve would prefer, but hey, it's enough for today. 

It's impossible to find a perfect one, but Steve keeps looking, keeps collecting all the missing pieces-blond hair, or mullets, or biker boots, or hungry eyes. 

They never have it all together.

It's like with your favorite broken teacup. You can try to fix it and glue it back together, but it will never be the same. 

No one will have these pretty baby blues, framed by dark lashes, and low deep voice, and strong hands, and scrunchy dumb smile, and freckled wide nose. 

No one ever will be like him.

But Steve keeps seeking it, to fill up that gaping void in his chest. To breath. 

To forget.

Guy's eyes roam over Steve's body and finally, after a long fucking time, he smirks and nods towards the male bathroom. Steve quickly finishes his beer, stands up from bloody red bar stool.

“You don't have to do this.” Robin says, her hand is gentle on his shoulder. Steve doesn't want gentleness; he feels nauseous just from how sad her face looks.

“Yea, duh.” He shrugs carelessly, sends her a dopey smile, hoping it will be enough. “The thing is, Rob, I want to? Aren't we here to have fun, and stuff?” 

“Yeah,” she says, “We are here to have fun.” The implications of her non-said words make his skin crawl and face burn with shame.

He feels so fucked up.

He really needs to get fucked. He just can't help it.

“Well, so come and get that babe, girl.” He winks as she sends him a funny look. “See you at this spot after fifteen minutes!” 

They make out for, like, at least five minutes, and Steve starts to get really impatient. He grinds again the knee between his legs, arches his back, whines into the guy hot mouth.

“Come on,” He breathes out, voice shaky and embarrassingly small. “Come on, man, fuck me already. Fuck me,” He chants, unbuckling guy belt with trembling hands, “Fuck me. Fuck me, fuck me.”

“You sure you're an adult? Fuck, look like jailbait.” Man grunts, squeezing his ass. Steve tries to enjoy how he smells, like cigarettes and leather, but something is missing here. No cologne sweetness. No mix of sunscreen and chlorine water. Too heavy, too sharp. “Have real cocksucker lips though, boy. Maybe if you suck me off at first, I will think about giving you a reward.”

Steve wants to punch him.

He hates himself when he drops on his knees, but soon enough he forgets. When there is a rough hand in his hair, when tears pick up in his eyes, when its _hurts_ -he finally forgets.

It's past midnight when Steve finally comes home, legs wobbly and head spinning. He almost stumbles on his own legs and drops the keys before he manages to open the door.

“Shit. Urgh, ouch.” Steve hisses when sudden bright light hits his eyes. 

“Steven.” Dad says, standing in the hall with a newspaper in his hand. His voice sounds strict, as always. Disappointed, as always. “Are you drunk, _again_?”

“Dad.” Steve greets, trying to get out of his sneakers. Fuck, he hates shoelaces. Why can't it be just velcro instead? Would be so much easier. “Of course I'm not.” He lies.

Fuck, his throat still hurts a bit.

“Sure.” Dad says, shakes his head. “What are you even wearing?”

“What are you wearing?” Steve looks at him with a frown. “You look like a weirdo in this robe.”

Dad stern grey eyes bore into his, and Steve looks down, suddenly finding their carpet very interesting. He actually doesn't want dad to get angry and yell at him, especially not today. He's just... 

So tired.

He fidgets with his fingers when dad comes to lock the door behind him. 

Oh. Steve thought he kinda did that. 

“Go to your room, we'll talk tomorrow.” Dad orders, and Steve heads out to the stars. “And stop dressing like a fucking whore. I swear, you're lucky what your mother is asleep already.” 

Steve flops down on the bed, curls up under the heavy blanket, too lazy for the shower. He hugs his second pillow, turns on music on sony walkman, listening that one mixtape Billy made for him, listens it in a drunk haze. 

And then, he finally breaks down, and cries, cries, cries.

Next day was colder. The sky was gray and heavy, and to rake the leaves in their backyard and to not freeze to death, Steve had to pull on a thick sweater. Dad gave him a whole to-do list for today, which was fucking unfair, because, what the heck? He already works in that lame store all the time, and now he has to work on his day offs, too?

And he thought America was a free country.

It's astonishing, how fast time goes. Just a few weeks ago, it was still summer, warm and bright and blooming. Now, everything around is dying and rotting and decays.

And that's what life is about.

He sweeps yellow leaves into the trash bag, glances at the pool, thinks about what he should order today for the dinner since parents went on a business trip again. Chinese or pizza? Mom said there is a soup left in the fridge, but, you know.

Soups are yucky.

He doesn't have much money on his own, but he's kinda not in the mood to cook today. The Family Video pays a bit better than Scoops Ahoy, but it's still drastically less than the money he had when had dads card.

Also, now when Robin is back in school, Steve seriously considers quitting, because without her around working with Keith is pure hell. And Steve tries to stop judging by their popularity and stuff, he really tires; but the fact is, Keith is a real dick.

Steve will never be able to enjoy Cheetos anymore. Which is fucking unfair. He kinda loved them.

Chinese, he thinks, smoking dads cigs what he found in his coat. He gets the phone, and then stops in the middle of the room, goosebumps covering his skin.

There is something on his backyard. _Someone_. He hears heavy steps on the grass, the sounds of rustle and creak.

Steve slowly puts handset away, swallows hard. 

It could be just a raccoon, right? A raccoon, they always get into the people yards, digging in the trash. Steve lives near the forest. It's possibly a raccoon.

When he runs outside, there is no one. No one is here, the yard is empty, but-

And the trash bin is knocked over, laying here like a gutted corpse. Steve pulse rises, and he thinks about the nailed bat he gave to Max after the night at the Byers house, and about what he probably should get himself another one. 

“Hey?” Steve calls. All who he sees is a lonely moth who flies on the light of the outdoor lanterns. “Is anybody here?”

No one answers him, and Steve finally breaths out. A stupid raccoon, he thinks, approaching the bin to push trash in and put it back on its place. He stands up, sighing and wiping hands on jeans, wrinkling his nose.

Then, there is a crackle behind him, and before Steve can turn around, a cold big hand covers his mouth.

Steve makes a small sound, squeezes his eyes shut. He panics, tries to break free, to fight, but the stranger is _istrong_.

It's probably the Russians, they finally tracked down and found him, and they want to take him back and continue doing what they were doing, and _that guy_ will be here, and Steve isn't sure he will make it out.

He doesn't want to. Please, God, he doesn't want to go there again.

Please, please.

“Shh. Don't scream.” A familiar voice murmurs quietly, soothingly, his tone is a strange mix between order and plea. Steve stills, forgetting how to breathe. “I will go away. Just don't. Don't scream.” Billy says.

Steve trembles, and when Billy lets him go, he almost falls on the ground, unbalanced.

“Billy?” Steve whispers, wanting to cry and laugh at the same time, feeling fucking dizzy. “You're...you're alive?” He asks, words coming out choked.

Billy looks feral, like a wounded wild animal, frightened and dangerous. He is a lot skinnier now, but the power is still here, in his solid and firm body. Still bigger than Steve. He's got many little scars all around, and his eyes remind Steve of soldiers eyes on grandpa's Ottis old war photos. 

They all got these eyes, eyes what saw death and murder.

“Yeah.” Billy rasps, hoarse and deep like he didn't talk in years. “ _Don't cream your pants_.”

**Author's Note:**

> Steve: :( i miss Billy :((  
> Billy: I lived bitch  
> Steve: uh OH 
> 
> ______
> 
> Anyway, my mind is a big mess this whole week and I couldn't even properly exist as a human being until I wrote dis down so...hope u will like it, guys!!! Thank u very much for reading ♡  
> (I also will continue BTNC but im think for now im fully concentrated on this new story, after all of the ST3 unfortunate events. Lord help us all!)


End file.
